Walk with Shadows
by Man Of Reason
Summary: Sometimes even the Force can be surprised… AU.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do well and truly own nothing; it all belongs to someone else.

A/N: I guess I have to say that this will be very AU but just the same it was fun to write so why not? I'll post this to test the waters so to speak, if I still feel inspired in a few days I'll continue. Oh and no beta so if anything is wrong I apologise. Anyway hope you enjoy.

**Walk With Shadows: Chapter one**

It was the beeping that came to her first. It was distant but unerring, echoing through the otherwise dormant ship. Her mind, for so long the domain of fleeting memoires, began its inevitable march. How long passed between each glimpse of her past? How many years did her mind contain but one thought?

She could not have said if it was days, weeks or years after the beeping started that she actually heard it. That her mind comprehended once again that there was an external world. Yet, ever so slowly, her mind stirred. Worst of all, she could feel it. A mind that had kept itself alive by playing random games with her nightmares and dreamscapes was ill prepared for such stimuli.

At the base of her skull, something flickered briefly and died. An eternity later, a mere second later, it flared to life once more, searing an aimless path through her skull before disappearing. She twitched. Decades pasts, seconds barely had time to form. Three pinpricks in her skull. Three more scorched valleys of pointless meandering. Her right index finger jumped. A minute passed, a star died. Ten bright caverns of burnt flesh. She sneered.

In a process that could not be stopped, synaptic connections flared to life, unintentionally utilised for the first time in centuries. They grew in number, grew in their frequency, and grew in their ferocity. They ran through her mind, burning all in their path. First relief from their torture was commonplace. Activity would bloom, before petering out. Respite, however, came at ever longer intervals. Like the firing of a rail gun, the first shot came slowly, the second a little faster and the third faster still. Before long the gun was firing near continuously, deadly pellets that had no place in a perfect world. And there was pain, oh so much pain. A pain born of disuse. Like any other machine the rust needed to be removed, and the engine oiled.

A comet sent a planet into an ice age, its inhabitants perishing. Her heart beat once. Her mind blazed relentlessly in a fire that should have consumed the ship. The pain reached its zenith, and for the first time in generations, for the first time in hours, she gasped out a breath without the aid of the machine covering her face. With its release the pain began to recede. Another shaky breath, more of the pain flowed out with it. Distantly, she actually heard the beeping for the first time and surprise took her. She hadn't expected to hear anything again, she hadn't expected to live.

Her head lulled, left to right, moving at a command that was more instinct than desire. She felt the cool breeze on her face, though she forgot almost instantly. Her mind too scattered to focus on any one thing. Except the beeping, but that invaded her senses in a steady rhythm, it was her lifeline, her rock. Her right hand moved and touched her stomach. She felt neither. There was the knowledge she had moved her hand and to where, but she was absent of all sensation.

Another breath, her eyes flickered open briefly. Thousands died in war. Such knowledge surprised her disorientated mind, but its source was trusted. Her hand hit the edge of the basin that held her, again she felt nothing. The sound of her hand hitting the basin, however, didn't lie. '_Where the hell am I_?' It was her first coherent thought. Memory flashed, and she shied away in protest as she shivered. She wasn't ready to face that just yet.

"Estimated time until consciousness is fully regained," a monotone spoke from her right, "One hundred and twenty three seconds." She groaned at the machine. A flood killed hundreds. "Beginning stage three…" And she screamed, hearing no more. She convulsed inside the basin, her back arching as her heels dug in and her arms flailed about wildly under her. It was as if someone had injected poison into every nano-meter of flesh that they could find and she felt the pain of the cells dieing in response. Her eyes snapped open, desperate to find the source of her torment. Instead a white haze engulfed her vision and she knew she was close to passing out. Through the haze she saw the black outlines of various objects, but nothing that sparked a sense of recognition.

"Circulation at seventy percent…eighty percent…ninety percent," The machine informed her without remorse, and the pain that she had identified as indiscriminate discharges of electricity began to subside, "Stage three complete." Her breathing uneven and ragged, she reached up and, snatching the breathing apparatus from her face, threw it as far as she could. In her fury it snuck over the edge of the basin. Disgusted, she allowed herself to take a small measure of comfort from the fact that she had felt the cold alloy under her finger tips, and that she could now feel the basin pressing against her body.

'_Weak_' her mind chanted, '_weak. Don't show weakness, strength. Need. To. Show. Strength. Strength…Power…Victory._' Ancient ideals even when she had first heard them, but useful just the same. She clutched the edge of the basin, stasis chamber rather, she remembered that much now, and with both hands, pulled herself upright, ignoring the sense of vertigo as best she could.

White spots and black flecks flared across her vision, fighting for supremacy. She shook her head slowly and only succeeded in making her vision swim. As it settled she got the first signs she was wining this small war. Dark blues mixed with the black. Soon they were joined with reds, silvers and a glint of yellow. Suddenly, shocking, her brain …_slid_. There was no better way she could think of to describe the feeling, parts of her brain seemed to shift, slip and churn. Her world came into focus with such clarity that her eyes stung.

Blinking back tears, a small smile took her lips. The silver became the metal of the chamber in which she sat. The dark blue was the hue of the light in the room. The yellow was the small warning light on the raised lid of the stasis chamber above her, its glass reflecting it haphazardly. The white the mist that the flooded the room, swirling before her eyes, caressing her skin. The red outlined the doorway to her right, pulsing in time with the rhythmic beeping.

"Reanimation complete," she started, before glaring at the offending speaker to her right, "Powering down." Above her the yellow light gave a final flash and died, leaving her alone in the near darkness.

"Bloody thing," she whispered. Experimentally she brought her legs up to her chest and was surprised when the muscles only groaned. She had expected violent protest. She took a deep breath that didn't do enough to sedate her need for oxygen. Perhaps she should have been more concerned that the life support systems seemed to be failing. But it mattered little to her then and there.

'_Did it want her to succeed?_' she mused. It seemed the only logical conclusion but still. '_Did it even know she was here?_' The Force, an entity that she had come to realise she would never truly come to understand. Its nature was too foreign for one to completely grasp. Light and Dark, both motives utilised, both outcomes unacceptable. A balance desired. It sent her warnings of hidden dangers, and then informed her she would never succeed in protecting that which she valued. It taunted her with visions of one she could consider her equal, her aid, her fellow crusader, then put him as far out of reach as possible. She smirked, _'Nothing was impossible however.'_ That she had learnt.

If it had worked, and still she wasn't sure if this wasn't just a malfunction, it had to be the will of the Force. Or at the very least her will made possible through the Force. Any and all calculations were impossible; she didn't even know her destination. With a great effort she managed to heave herself out of the stasis chamber and stood on unsteady legs. Her robes matched her limbs, cold and stiff. When her knees nearly buckled under her and her hand on the lip of the stasis chamber was the only thing holding her up, she knew she needed help.

She reached out, as she had so many times before, to her silent friend, to her harsh master, to her cowering pet, and sought its strength. She felt the Force pause, and knew she had its undivided attention. It studied her, the way one might a wild animal out of the corner of their eye, not sure which way it will run. She felt her heart thud in her chest. It hadn't been expecting her. It may have sustained her and given her aid, but even the Force had not expected her gamble to succeed. Dark thoughts snaked through her mind, _'Had it just been trying to be rid of her?'_ Seconds later it relented and came to her, in all its glory, and she directed it to her body. She felt muscle strengthen, bones mend and ligaments replenish.

Revan Du Sal healed herself in the most secure compartment of a ship that was slowly venting its atmosphere. A ship that was a relic millennia ago, a ship that had been specifically modified for her purpose, based on a design from the earliest records of human space travel, though substantially improved. A ship that was so damaged and battered that through the door the floor curved up and to the left. It had been straight and level when she last saw it. Sleeper they had described such ships.

"And sleep she had," she muttered as she set off on unsteady legs, "it was just a question of how long." She walked slowly through the halls, not wanting to put a foot wrong, not wanting to apply the pressure that would finally tear the ship apart. She moved cautiously as the red light lit her path, bathing it in an eerie glow one minute, leaving it in darkness the next.

* * *

On the city planet of Coruscant, a high ranking politician found himself momentarily drawn from the debate that raged about the actions of the Trade Federation as the Force stalled. He could think of no other way to describe what he felt, and none but the Force sensitive would feel it but it was a full twenty seconds before normal service resumed. His mask slip and his benevolence died as a snarl took his lips. Any fool could see that something of significance had occurred; it was just a question of what. He wanted to rage, he wanted to destroy, but he held on by a thread. The darkness, his old friend, his only companion, lingered on his shaking fingertips before it whispered to him. '_Yes…yes. A missed opportunity was all, nothing more._' His features once again radiated reassurance as his attention returned to the Senate and talk of the blockade. All was well, everything was proceeding as planned. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Deep in hyperspace Qui-Gon Jin was snapped from his mediation by the disturbance. Behind him, the hyperdrive that had been stammering for hours gave one final lurch, a stutter and then it inexplicably strengthened. The slight pressure that hyperspace put on his body evened out and the Nubian royal starship gracefully speed toward Coruscant on its mercy mission. "Interesting," was all he said before he resumed his mediation, albeit with a different focus.

* * *

High above Coruscant in the Jedi council chambers, Master Yoda leaned heavily on his cane while observing the organised chaos that flowed around him. The others would have questions, he knew, and their theories would be highly imaginative. All he did, however, was sigh, "Another's problem, I now have." How it would manifest itself, he did not know, but he was sure it would, just as he was sure they now rode into an unlikely future.

* * *

On Tatooine, a young boy waited out a sandstorm with only his mother for company and a droid to keep him occupied. The child was, as one would expect, completely unaware that his future had change irrevocably.

* * *

"This is Delta Two, we have breached the hull. Repeat we have breached the hull," the strike team commander's voice crackled onto the bridge via the ships communication systems, "Awaiting further orders."

Captain Grogan Baztof sighed_, 'Why do these things always happen to me?'_ From his position on the bridge of the Republic Assault Cruiser, _The Vigilance_, he could quite clearly see both ships in the viewport. The DSEV, or the Deep Space Extraction Vehicle, was by far the smaller of the two. Designed to quickly and efficiently move its four man crew into volatile situations, be it a severely damaged allied craft or a civilian vessel that had found itself in trouble, and out again before everything went to hell. It had attached itself to the stern, or what was left of it, of the ship that was apparently dead in space before them. "Status report lieutenant, what do you see?"

"Sir, scans proved to be accurate," burst the commanders disembodied voice once more, "oxygen levels are minimal and atmosphere is approaching critical levels. The lights are out, visibility is down to a few metres." He paused and a tapping sound came over the speakers. "Sir, readouts show that only backup power is operating and even that is struggling to power life support. Do we continue sir?"

"Make it fast lieutenant," he grimaced, "A quick sweep, look for survivors and then out, no more." They were the Admiral's original orders, following Republic protocol. Any and all distress signals would be investigated, even if the one they were responding to stopped hours ago. When they had arrived and seen what was before them…he really wished the Admiral hadn't retired to his personal quarters.

He took another quick glance around the bridge in which he stood. The majority of the men, all of which should have being at their posts, were following his example and studying the medium sized vessel before them. Such indiscretions were normally severely punished, but looking at those restless and anxious faces he immediately decided to ignore it. The decision was easy enough, and two reasons made it so.

Firstly, _The Vigilance_ was past due in port for scheduled maintenance. Almost all of the crew had leave while the repairs were carried out and, were it not for this time consuming detour to the middle of nowhere, Coruscant would have been at most a few hours away.

Secondly, the vessel itself was a sight to behold. It reminded him of an extremely old warrior that had seen one too many wars. In its youth, as hard to imagine as the youthful face of that old man, it was perhaps sleek and sturdy. It shape would have resembled two crescent moons joined together. '_The unimaginative minds of the military would have no doubt called it a W-wing, or some such_,' he pondered, '_though it seems too large to be a fighter and too small to be an assault ship. So a smaller transport vehicle or civilian?_'

Now, however, the fact that the ship was still together at all, that it had any atmosphere worthy of the name was, well, remarkable. Like the deeply lined and weathered face of the old man, the exterior of the ship would have been unrecognisable to all but those who knew it well. There were more dints, holes, scratches and missing segments of the metal shielding than he could count. The imperfections marred every inch of the ships surface. And that was ignoring that half the left crescent was missing, sheered off in some unknown calamity. The stump was still there, just like on the decommissioned old soldier, but the arm was missing. From his vantage point he could see the blast doors that had sealed shut when the incident had occurred.

In his mind he saw the old man on his death bed, gasping for breath, the time between the pings of the heart rate monitor ever increasing. It would have been sad, but then all relics eventually die. The scans indicated that the hyperdrive had been removed and replaced with something unidentified, and that is what troubled him most of all. '_How in the name of all things good, did the bloody ship manage to get this far out here then?'_ Without a hyperdrive…the word millennia rang in his mind.

'_Civilian,'_ he quickly decided just to put an end to his wondering_. 'That would fit nicely with the explanation that the scientists had come up with, that it was no more than a failed experiment.'_ His mind had begun filing with images of the strike team fanning out, searching each room of the vessel systematically, with only the lights from their helmets illuminating the gloom when the sharps communication system sparked to life.

"Sir, we made it to the bridge," the lieutenant paused and when he spoke again his voice was rapid, "Sir, we found a survivor, I'll never know how, but we did. It's a human female in her late twenties. I thought she was dead when I first saw her but she has a pulse, its weak buts its there. She's unconscious Sir. Do we have orders to extract?"

Grogan was, to say the least, surprised, so much so that the lieutenant's voice came again over the speakers. "Sir? Are you reading me? I repeat we have a survivor. Do we extract?"

To make up for his lapse he spoke quickly and firmly, "Extract the survivor. I want you back onboard The Vigilance in ten minutes. Am I understood?"

"Aye Sir, leaving now"

Satisfied, Grogan turned to the personal on the bridge. "I want the woman and the strike team quarantined from the moment they step back into the hanger and kept there until the infirmary gives the all clear." He turned and faced those on his right, "As soon as we receive word that they have docked I want that ship scuttled and a course set for Coruscant." He waited for confirmation that his orders had being understood before he turned and, leaving the bridge to the next in command, went in search of the Admiral. He needed to be informed that they were going to have a civilian aboard.

A/N: Anyway I hope it was a fun read…until next time.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still own nothing, it belongs to Lucas.

A/N: Thank you to those that reviewed, I'm glad people enjoyed it. What do you know, I still feel good about this story. Enjoy.

**Walk with Shadows: Chapter two**

He sat alone in the darkened room; the blaring red numbers on the wall told him it was approaching nightfall. _'A few more minutes, I still have a few more minutes,'_ he consoled himself, not really believing it. Elbows resting on the desk, his head in his hands and foot tapping on the floor, it was all he could do not to start pacing. _'Nothing. How can there be nothing?'_

Derrick rubbed the balls of his palms into his sore eyes before leaning back into his chair to stare at the offending screen. The impossible results of the blood work looked right back. No pathogens, free of disease and illness. No abnormal markers. White cells and red cells both normal. No foreign bodies or parasites. Scans of the body showed old injuries in the sternum, six ribs, the right fibula and the aftermath of a shattered left hip. All organs were functioning naturally. A brain scan had completed the picture of a trauma long healed. Cracks had once run the length of the skulls surface with an indication that the left of the temporal lobe had taken the brunt of the impact. There had almost certainly been brain damage.

That was not what was causing the patients catatonic state, however. If the patient's previous injuries, which seem to have occurred between four and seven years ago given the state wear on the healed segments, had turned her into a vegetable, a far larger degree of muscle loss and bone degradation would be seen. It wasn't present. Also, brain activity was consistent with someone who was asleep, periods of a deep sleep followed light. _'The medical officer had said she hadn't stirred in the four days she had been on board,'_ he mentally sighed as he thought it over once again, _'that her physical condition had only been improving.'_

He remembered days in his early years, when he first entered the academy, when no matter how he tried, no matter which way he approached the problem, he couldn't find the answer. He felt like that now, stressed and ignorant, the exam tomorrow. The answer was there, he only needed to look, but time was slipping away, running ever faster. His shift was ending and his wife had brought tickets to the opera. '_She would understand,'_ he told himself and almost believed it. He knew he couldn't do that to her once more. Too many lonely nights on Coruscant had put enough strain on his marriage as it was.

He would go, but his mind would not leave this room, puzzles had always been his problem. The opera would play out before him, his wife would smile and clutch his hand and all he would see were the factures snaking out from the temporal lobe. The numbers on the walled ticked over once more and he knew it was past time to leave. Quickly he closed down the files on patient HJS-253 and went to his locker to get changed.

Even at this hour, the hospital moved on its smoothly greased axels. He walked past droids pushing carts laden with meals, past cleaning droids, past families been gently but firmly told that visiting hours were finishing. A nurse in full surgical attire walked by quickly, briefly piquing his interest, '_Another accident come too emergency, then._'

As he strolled past the nurse's station a few waved in farewell, one even wished him a good evening but none battered an eyelash as he walked past the corner that led to the exit. _'What would be worse,'_ he pondered, _'someone finding the answer while I'm off duty, or still trying to figure it out a week from now?'_ He had no idea.

Hands in pockets, he turned down another brightly lit corridor that was in stark contrast to the encroaching darkness creeping over the night sky. Airspeeders would soon only be visible via their lights. He turned another corner and nodded his head to a security guard that walked past. He wanted one more look. Mysteries were meant to be looked at, to be studied.

When he finally came to her room, though, nothing was as he expected. The bed was empty, a nearly naked nurse was unconscious on the floor and a droid was letting of small puffs of smoke in the corner as sparks flared. "That surgical nurse," he muttered, eyes wide, frozen, his mind jolted, "she was heading in the opposite direction to emergency…"

With one last look at the unmoving nurse Derrick was running. He wife would have to wait after all. It wasn't until days later that he thought to check the blood sample for a midichlorian count, but by then she was long gone.

* * *

She walked a near aimless path through a city full of roads that to her led nowhere. The unforgiving rumble of the city surrounded her. It catered to her mood, dank, dark and...lost. Not once did she receive a second look as she moved through the crowds, clothes borrowed from lockers at the hospital helped with some of that. Her hooded cloak purchased with pilfered credits did the rest. Coruscant's sun was just cresting its horizon, and it was that she walked towards more than anything. Dawn would end a night of torment.

'_Four thousand years,_' the words echoed in her skull, always accompanied by silence. An airspeeder pulled out of Coruscants sky and landed before her, causing her to divert her path. As she squeezed by she trailed her hand lazily along the wall, eyes deep in her hood marvelled as her fingers collected dust, leaving streaks in their wake. '_So long, so long…'_

She came around a bend and sunlight caressed her for the first time. Its embrace was welcomed; its comfort the first she had experienced since fleeing questions that she dared not answer. Nothing was as it had been, everything had changed, yet its familiarity stung her. Look forward or back far enough, and we always come to the same point, always revisit the same place. It had always been an abstract concept, a lesson half learned. 'It was not meant to be lived,' she whispered, 'never lived.'

The Force flowed on this planet in what she could only think of as cautious anticipation. Its streams were great and multifaceted, life…was everywhere. Its spark was a deluge that battered her soul. Any direction she could look, and there would be millions. Except not a single one was recognisable. They were all gone. The Force watched her, and waited for the inevitable.

**Revan Du Sal: The Prodigal Knight. **

'**There exists no complete record of one of histories most notorious Jedi. While the temple may be the lone exception, access to their database was not granted. What follows will attempt to focus on fact over fiction and present at best a hypothetical explanation of the actions of a Jedi that the Republic should feel forever grateful left for the unknown regions never to return.'**

She paid it no heed; she was an island, immune to its constant ebbing. Her shielding in place, she isolated herself the best she knew how. Both the bright and dark lurked on Coruscant, she felt their presence but cared not. The light side tried to reach out and claim her. The darkness stood at the edge of her shielding laughing manically as it shrieked, 'Who are you? Who are you?' She ignored both.

Normally she could have kept the Force quiet but her scattered mind was struggling to just move her battered body safely through the streets. At the moment, all else was beyond her. An hour out of the hospital and she realised she might just have belonged there. Resilience built up over many years had deserted her. Her legs strained to carry out her wishes, her arms felt weak and heavy. Complications of too many years of immobility, she knew. Machines and the Force could only do so much. Her hip, repaired years ago after Malak fired on her ship and since forgotten, was a bundle of tight nerves that pinched at every step.

Ahead the street opened into a broad square, buildings towered to the sky on every side acting like an impenetrable wall, at its centre stood a statue of bronze. The street she walked continued on the opposite side of the open ground, the sun now a flaring crescent that spilled directly down her promenade and into the plaza, casting long shadows. She walked ever toward it.

'**A student of promise, she learned all that was put before her until she could no longer ignore the drums of war. Had she been able too, the Mandalorians may have been all that troubled the Republic for generations and Revan may have fallen into obscurity like so many others. As it was she ran to the fire and it became an inferno.'**

She saw them in her mind as she walked, companions whose memory was all but forgotten, now only footnotes to her life. She had left them behind once, but had always hoped to see them again. Then it had been something that she had tried not to contemplate as she worked on the vessel that would make them forever unreachable. She'd had a choice, in a way. To ignore everything she had ever worked for and return too them or continue. More than once she had faltered, only the cold certainty that the Republic would be destroyed if she failed to act kept her working. Despite its flaws, she valued that more than anything.

'_Liar'_, a voice that she recognised as a Dark Lords taunted, _'you were no longer who they thought you were, you never were. You had nowhere you belonged, you had nowhere to go.'_ She shied away from that voice but did not deny it. Long ago she had realised that they had taken everything from her, every thought, every emotion was tainted. How could she ever be sure of her own mind again, how did she know she was herself? Memories and passions constantly collided in her skull. Her companions, she missed, but like so much else she could not trust those feelings. "They did this to me," she whispered, and the anger that had been simmering for hours finally reached her soul.

'…**destruction greater than any that had preceded it, she brought back with her from the Star Forge, her fall so complete it would influence the Sith for millennia. Two wars she stopped, one that was of her own making, and three she was responsible for, two of which occurred long after she perished in the heart of Sith space.'**

In the night she had found a public access terminal in a deserted archive, only to be stunned at what she had found. Her life, summed up in a few short paragraphs, outlined betrayal, war and murder on a scale so large as to name her the eternal sinner. The Mandalorians were made to look like floundering children, what they called the Jedi Civil War an act of pettiness and greed. They laid at her feet the Great War that occurred three hundred years after her 'death' as the hidden Sith Empire attacked, and the actions of Darth Bane thousands of years later after he found a holocron not designed for him.

'_They blame me for the threat I had sensed in the unknown regions materialising?'_ she clenched her hands into fists and two windows to her left exploded. _'They ignore the fact that I left the republic intact,'_ in the distance, at the other end of the square, a man dressed in flowing robes caught her eye, _'overlooked or unseen is the reality that without my 'civil' war and the regulations and protocols put in place as a result, the Great War would have lasted days and its end…'_ She was moving before any conscious thought had entered her mind.

'…**had she not set out into the unknown regions, where it can be safely assumed she met her ultimate demise, who would have woken the Sith Empire? There is also the Idleberg hypothesis to consider, that Revan sought just that when she left, to rouse the Sith and unleash them against the Republic in an act of revenge as she once again became who she really was, Dark Lord of the Sith, the Prodigal Knight the true illusion.'**

The crowd melted before her as she snarled. The Jedi, with his short cropped white hair and long beard, came into view once more, his small party moving off into the markets. _'I did nothing but sow chaos and deceit in the empire after the Force whispered, I brought three hundred years, without me...'_ her thoughts trailed off, it was unnecessary to continue. Everything, even how she was remembered, had been taken from her; left to rot by the Jedi, and that fed her fury. Now would she take their chosen one and call it even? _'Was that why I came here? To deny them his presence in their temple?'_ She knew she wanted the chosen one, and thought she knew why, but she had been wrong before.

She was walking behind them now, even the Jedi oblivious to her presence. She smirked. For the moment she kept pace, walking just out of the shadows they cast, waiting. On both sides of the street stalls were open and sentients of all descriptions were showing their wares. She saw Bith, Duros, Twi'lek, Rodain and others, even a few species she didn't recognise. Mostly though, she ignored them. The Jedi's presence in the Force was what she focused on, what drew her. It was weak but bright, a strong yellow flecked with purple and white. At his right hip her eye caught a glint of silver and she moved, her tiredness forgotten as she drew on the Force.

The Jedi flinched, but it was too late. Her hand snapped forward, the Force bursting from her in an unrestrained torrent. Like a tornado touching down in the middle of a city without warning, chaos exploded in the marketplace. The Jedi and his companions were knocked straight up in the air, merchandise burst from stands, market stalls shattered, their pieces flung in all directions. Passers-by were knocked from their feet, others dropping to the ground to avoid flying debris. More tripped as the tried to run.

Just as the first shouts began to fill the air her hand closed around the cold hilt of the Lightsaber, she unclipped it from his belt and brought it behind the back of the now falling Jedi. The darkness swirled around her as her mind screamed. _'Why was this done to me?'_ The world seemed to slow, the seconds stretch as her thumb lingered over the ignition switch. If her shaking hand ignited the blade…the Jedi would no longer have a heart.

'**When the topic of Revan Du Sal is researched invariably an anonymous quote is often uncovered. Reasoning attributes it to one of the Jedi that was present on Dantooine, the location of a Jedi training enclave prior to its bombardment and the construction of the Temple on Coruscant after the Great War. **_**'Revan was power. It was like staring into the heart of the Force.'**_** While a clear indication of her ability, the most disturbing aspect of that quote is perhaps that it lends weight to the argument that the best of the Jedi often become the enemies of the Republic. It was certainly true of the Jedi of her era.'**

Her breathing loud in her own ears, her mind reeled as she watched the Jedi slowly descend, his robes billowing. Instead of ignition she slipped the entire length of the Lightsaber up her sleeve, her free hand swung around onto the Jedi's chest as he fell past her hip, a pulse of the Force discharging on contact leaving him stunned even before he hit the ground and bounced. With effort she forced the darkness away and her anger went with it, leaving her alone to face the reality of what she had done.

Eyes wide, her chest heaving, all she could do was stare down at the Jedi as people fled in all directions, their screams going with them. _'What am I doing?'_ Her mind began to work again, slowly but it worked. _'Kill a nameless Jedi? I have never done that without reason, I never even hurt without reason.'_ It was then that the sounds of heavy footsteps filled her ears, dimly at first but coming closer. Up the street, outlined by the rising sun, a squad of security personal was coming her way.

She started backing away slowly, her eyes going over their heads and towards the sun, towards where she had been told the Jedi Temple now stood. _'Later, it would have to be later.'_ She turned and ran, her hip once again howling in pain as Coruscant's constant dull murmur engulfed her once more. He was not here, or even on any of the core worlds, that much she could sense. How she would find him, she was not sure. What the Force seemed to be suggesting was unusual to say the least. It would take time. But that was fine. With one last glance over her shoulder at the destroyed marketplace and stunned Jedi that the security forces were just now getting to, she knew she needed it.

A/N: Hope it was interesting…until later. Oh and that quote came from KOTOR 2 by they way, I don't mean to steal anything.


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